


simple as that

by traceylane



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Florist AU, M/M, also newt and gally friendship!! nice, bit of thomally for ya, but also valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceylane/pseuds/traceylane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-shit my crush is the florist au-</p><p>newt, being newt, wants to get flowers for his crush, who happens to work at the only flower shop in town</p>
            </blockquote>





	simple as that

Newt’s a sap. He’s a fucking romantic, but who gives a shit?

And it isn’t like flowers are a bad gift. Everyone likes flowers. The only people who don’t like flowers are people with allergies, probably. And liars.

…It suddenly dawns on him exactly how long he’s been standing in front of the florist’s, arguing with himself over whether or not to go in—pacing in front of it, really, like a madman, stealing angry glances at the peonies displayed in the window, sinister in their glass vases, mocking him.

It’s two days before Valentine’s Day.

Newt’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

_[Gally]: whats taking so long_

_[Newt]: im thinking. dont rush me_

_[Gally]: i thought you finished making excuses before you left_

Newt narrows his eyes at the screen.

Gally’s right, obviously; Newt had already spent about half an hour across from him in the coffee shop next door, getting worked up over the idea of flowers for the captain of the school track team, slash school vice president, slash class valedictorian, not that Newt was intimidated, or anything, he just didn’t expect to be the only one getting Minho a gift, so really why bother—

But Gally hadn’t been much help calming him down, considering he had—quite disproportionately—been dividing his attention between dealing with Newt’s dilemma and bickering with the barista (which, Newt eventually noticed, was his own version of flirting).

_[Newt]: i wasnt aware that youd been listening_

_[Gally]: i caught bits and pieces_

This son of a—

_[Gally]: youre stalling_

_[Gally]: do you need me to go over there and push you or something_

Newt texts back quickly, knowing Gally is more than half serious about that.

_[Newt]: no stay there_

_[Newt]: im going in_

And Newt takes a deep breath, slips his phone into his pocket right after it pings once more—( _[Gally]: reminder that youre buying flowers not stealing a diamond_ )—and walks in.

It takes him a moment to regret every moment he spent outside this place rather than in.

The smell is refreshing and almost thick, and it rushes over him and out the door before it closes with a soft _whoosh_.  It’s warm and the air is sort of saturated compared to the dry cold outdoors. And the flowers—there are literal buckets of them lined up on the floor, in round ceramic pots, isolated on tabletops covered in green tablecloth, with long, thin stems—

“Hey, man.”

Newt turns quickly, a little embarrassed that he’s been caught getting charmed by plants, though that embarrassment immediately turns into soul-crushing humiliation when he realizes that it’s Minho sitting on a stool behind the counter.

“D’you need help or anything?”

He has one earbud in, the white cord trailing down behind the fabric of his red apron, likely into his sweater pocket. There’s a textbook open on the counter in front of him. He’s smiling slightly.

There are other details that Newt can’t help but notice since he can’t stop staring.

“…You okay, dude?”

Newt blinks, pulled back down to Earth by Minho’s mild concern, says, “I—Minho?”

Minho’s expression changes. “Oh—yeah, sorry, must be kind of random to see me here, I guess.”

It wasn’t just random, it was bizarre. Disarming. Newt’s never really seen him in a context where it didn’t feel like he was a member of the crowd at the Olympics and Minho was about to accept his seventh gold medal.

“My sister actually owns the store, but she wanted to go somewhere with her fiancé for the weekend and it’s not exactly good for business to close for Valentine’s Day—but anyway, I’m not stalking you or anything.” The corners of Minho’s mouth pull back into a full grin.

 _That’s too bad,_ Newt thinks, then he doesn’t think at all, because the next thing he says is, “The flowers are nice.” _Stupid._

Minho doesn’t seem to mind, though. “Thanks. I haven’t really done much besides, like, misting them.” He takes a jesting look around his shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone, but I actually don’t know shit about plants.”

Newt asks, “Didn’t you take AP Bio?” a little too quickly. That was the one class they’d ever taken together. Newt liked biology, but it was hard to pay attention to the teacher when you were busy staring at the kid sitting two seats in front and one to the right of you.

Minho scoffs, and Newt’s heart jumps a bit, the way that makes him feel like he’s part of the joke. “Right, so now I understand more than I’ve ever needed to understand about the Calvin cycle, and have no idea how not to drown an orchid.”

“Oh—orchid roots are used to air, so you only have to water them when they look pretty dry.”

Why? Why did his speech filter pick now of all times to shut off? Why did he have to sound like a know-it-all when he was obviously the most incompetent person on the planet?

But Minho’s eyes flash and he sits up, says, “Jesus, really? Thank you, honestly, maybe I can salvage the survivors now.”

Newt swallows. “No problem.”

“How’d you know that?”

Newt lies, “…My mum keeps orchids.”

They were his orchids. He wishes he could have more than house plants, but there wasn’t much space or, well, dirt for a garden in the two-bedroom apartment he shared with his sister and mother. If there were, Newt thinks bitterly, he could’ve grown something for Minho himself. But no.

“That’s cool. My sister’s a florist and I haven’t picked up anything. I’m impressed.”

“Wow. Me, a commoner, impressing _you_. I’m honored, Minho.” Newt feels, at first, proud that he’s able to slip into a relaxed tone, until he realizes that his casual self is more of an asshole. 

And Minho continues to surprise him. “I’d prefer to be addressed as ‘sir’, but the guillotine isn’t working today, so I guess I’ll let it slide this once.”

 They exchange a grin.

“Anyway—I’m guessing you don’t need my help finding what you need?”

Newt looks down at his hands for a moment, remembering why—and for whom—he came in the first place.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind it. If you’re not busy, or anything.”

He leaves it up to Minho to interpret that as Newt being considerate, having noticed he’d been studying, or as Newt being sarcastic, having noticed that he is literally the only other person in the store and Minho really _should_ be helping him.

Minho slides off of his seat, closing his textbook with a quick flip of his hand, and comes around the counter. “Nah—French can wait. Besides, I need you to show me how to keep the sunflowers up.”

\--

“So,” Minho says, “I kind of forgot what you were looking for.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you.”

They’ve been making their way around the store, systematically going through the different plants. Newt drops all pretense of not knowing how to take care of them, and gives Minho advice. Or if there’s no advice to give, they give the plant a name before moving on.

They’re crouching, now, around a small aloe plant they’re calling “Pike” when Minho says, “Oh.”

They’re faces are rather close, but Newt doesn’t look at him while he runs a finger down the edge of one of Pike’s leaves. “I’m looking for—I’m getting someone flowers for Valentine’s Day.”

Minho scoffs again, says, “Right—duh.”

Newt smiles to himself, says, “Yeah, I don’t even know why you asked.” He gets a light shove in response, and Newt wonders, a little awestruck, exactly when they had crossed the threshold into a Light-Shove Level Relationship.

 “Do you know what they would want?”

“I’m not even really sure how he feels about flowers.”

“Does he have allergies?”

Well, considering he works in a flower shop, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then he likes them.”

Minho, Newt sees, gets it.

The both of them stand up, and Newt suddenly swallows his nervousness and asks, “Which ones do you like?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, and Newt clears his throat. “As a suggestion.”

He thinks. “I like the hydrangeas.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s weird, but sometimes I just kind of wanna eat ‘em, you know?”

Newt laughs. “No, not really,” and Minho laughs, too.

They gravitate anyway, towards those flowers that look like bundles in themselves, petals tinged medium blue.

“It’s nice of you.”

“What? The flowers?”

“Yeah. He must be cool for you to want to get him these.”

Newt shrugs innocently as he picks a little brown pot off of the table. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. Yeah. He is. Really cool, actually.”

Minho raises his eyebrows at Newt’s flustering, slips behind the counter to ring up the purchase. “You like him?” he asks, amused.

“…Yeah.”

“I hope he likes these, then.”

“Me, too.”

“If he doesn’t, then I’ll take ‘em—I’m already kind of jealous as it is,” he says, handing Newt the hydrangeas over the counter.

It’s a joke, obviously, but Newt’s screaming inside of his head even as he says thank you and leaves.

\--

Newt’s walk back to Gally’s table in the café next door was blurry, like the portions of the dream that feel fast forwarded around the more vivid imagery.

And now Newt was awake, but only barely.

“You look dazed,” says Thomas the Barista, who’s leaning over the counter and looking sympathetic after having been filled in on the situation by Gally.

If Newt was more on top of things, he would have already made a shrewd comment about how sorry he was for interrupting whatever was going on between the two of them before he had come back.

Instead he gestures numbly to the plant on the table, says, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“What are you talking about? Give it to him, obviously,” Gally says flatly. Thomas, though, shakes his head understandingly before turning away to fill an order.

“How am I supposed to give it to him? He saw me buy them, heard me talking about who they were for. What do you want me to do? Stick the whole thing in his locker with a note and then leave the country?”

“You’re so dramatic. Wasn’t the whole point of giving him flowers to let him know that you like him? You’ve just made it easier for yourself. ‘Hey, remember that guy I was talking about? That was you.’”

“It isn’t easy.”

“Of course it is.”

“Hey, Tommy!” Newt suddenly leans sideways and calls out to the boy sliding a full paper cup onto the counter.

“What are you doing?” Gally hisses, gripping Newt’s arm.

Newt ignores him.

“’Sup?” Thomas calls back, a bit muffled with a pen cap in his mouth while he writes on another cup in his hand.  

“What are your plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“ _Newt_ ,” Gally says, through gritted teeth.

Newt turns back to him, speaks low and menacing, “This is easy, too, right? See how easy it is.”

“The fourteenth?” Thomas laughs. “I’m working.”

“Is that so? Gally, what are _you_ doing for Valentine’s Day?”

_“I will choke you.”_

“Gally’s not doing anything,” Newt yells back sing-song at Thomas. “But I think he wants to hang out. Grab dinner, mayb—mffgg…”

Gally’s slapped his hand over Newt’s mouth before he can say anything else, but the damage is pretty much done. Thomas is setting out the last of the order and peering over at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Really?” He looks directly at Gally, who is having a hard time looking Thomas in the eye while suppressing Newt’s aggressive nodding.

“I—I mean—”

Newt laughs a bit behind Gally’s hand while he keeps floundering, and Thomas looks a little more disappointed the longer he draws it out, until, “It’s okay. If you’re not up for it, you’re not up for it.”

Gally’s mouth snaps closed at that. “I am, though,” he says finally, as if Thomas has presented a challenge and he’s gladly stepping up to it. Newt looks visibly impressed.

“Oh—okay.” Thomas looks surprised, but… excited. Gally can hardly take it.

“Not as a Valentine’s Day thing, though. Just as another normal, Saturday thing.”

“A normal, Saturday thing,” Thomas repeats, unquestioning. “Sure.” He smiles, and Newt think he can hear Gally’s heart melting a little in his chest, or rather, the sound of Gally’s heart unsuccessfully attempting to resist melting.  It’s quite the phenomenon.

And then Gally, cheeks flaming red, turns back to him and in an grim whisper says, “See? Easy.”

Newt can’t argue with that.

\--

“Oh, shit,” Minho says, his face falling when he sees Newt coming back in with his hydrangeas. “Did something happen? Is something wrong with them?”

He starts inspecting them as soon as Newt sets them down on the counter, but Newt smiles reassuringly, says, “No, nothing’s wrong.”

“… Did he not like them?”  

It’s kind of hilarious how it looks like Minho’s ready to beat someone up over this, but Newt says, “No. I think he’ll like them.”

“You haven’t shown him yet?”

Newt runs his tongue over his bottom lip and bites it, “Um… I’m showing him now, actually.”

A pause. A long one.

“…You…”

“Yeah,” Newt clears his throat, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Minho.”

Minho stares at the plant for long enough that Newt almost starts to panic, but then he leans down and pulls a pair of scissors from one of the drawers behind the counter, turns, and takes a few feet of red and white ribbon from the rolls on the shelves behind him.

He wraps it around the rim of the flower pot. “I forgot to put this on earlier—might as well make it look good, if I’m keeping it.

He finishes, sets it next to the cash register. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And happy Valentine’s Day. I didn’t get you anything, though, since you’re two days early,” he accuses, but he’s smiling.

“I wanted to beat the rush of people who would be clamoring to get you something.”

Minho lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I know. Most years I can’t even keep track.”

Newt rolls his eyes, any notion that Minho was anything less than a smug asshole pretty much gone, but he doesn’t really mind. He kind of likes him this way.

“Why don’t we get coffee in the meantime?” Newt asks, and Minho looks at his watch, and starts untying his apron.

“Staking a claim, huh?”

“Something like that,” Newt admits, and they walk out together after Minho shuts off the neon _OPEN_ sign.

 

**Author's Note:**

> “But Megan, did you have to put in the thomally—” YES, WHAT THE FUCK, OF COURSE I DID. If it’s possible to ship two ships together, I ship thomally and minewt. Y’all can fight me.
> 
> Anyway- dis for that anon on tumblr who gave me that vday prompt; I’m not big on valentine’s day, but it was SUPER CUTE AND I THANK YOU.
> 
> Idk I’m happy-ish with this, it felt a little off, amirite. I just like seeing newt as the only one who needs to find his chill, instead of the inverse, and I also like that minho is A FUCKI GN NE RD while also what i want to be in life it’s fine
> 
> also posted on [tumblr](http://amazerunners.tumblr.com/post/111015702603/shit-my-crush-is-the-florist-au-newts-a-sap) erugh
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING~ HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! LOVE YOURSELF


End file.
